I nearly screamed.
Claire grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t answer.”
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
Then a man’s voice came through the door.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Nobody moved.“Mrs. Carter, my name is Martin Hale.”
Claire’s face changed completely.
Fear.
Not sadness.
Not surprise.
Fear.
He knocked again.
“I’m sorry to come so late, but this concerns your late husband’s estate.”
I looked toward Claire.
She shook her head violently.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
I opened it.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
A recent photograph.
Taken from across the street.
It showed me standing in my own kitchen window.
And beneath it was a second image.
Lily leaving preschool.
Holding her teacher’s hand.
My blood turned to ice.
Then another message appeared.
DO NOT TRUST THE WOMAN IN YOUR HOUSE.I looked slowly at Claire.
Her eyes were fixed on my phone.
